


(For Now) I Have This

by heyjupiter



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: And They Will Receive Them!, Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Bruce Banner & Natasha Romanov Friendship, Bruce Banner Needs a Hug, Friendship, Gen, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Missing Scene, Natasha Romanov Needs a Hug, Past Bruce Banner/Natasha Romanov - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:47:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23199625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heyjupiter/pseuds/heyjupiter
Summary: "Well, just, I hope you two can look after each other.""I don't need looking after, and I don't know that I'm qualified to look after anyone else." Least of all Bruce, who'd made it very clear that he didn't want to have anything to do with her.Pepper sounded endlessly, irritatingly sympathetic as she said, "Everybody needs looking after, once in a while.""If you say so."--After the Snap, Natasha thought it was bad enough to be alone at the Avengers Compound. Then Bruce turned up, looking to use the lab for his new long-term research project, and she thought that being isolated with only her awkward ex might actually be worse than being alone. Gradually, though, they warm up to each other--much like the stray cat who has managed to integrate herself into the compound--and find ways to look out for each other. (Even when they don't think it's necessary.)
Relationships: Bruce Banner & Natasha Romanov
Comments: 11
Kudos: 30
Collections: Ladies of Marvel Bingo 2019





	(For Now) I Have This

**Author's Note:**

> This is for the "movie night" square on my [Ladies of Marvel Bingo card](https://twentyghosts.tumblr.com/ladiesbingo).
> 
> It should be clear from context, but this is mostly set during the 5-year gap in Endgame. So there's no character death in the fic but the Snap has happened. 
> 
> Also, I'll note there's a minor scene involving alcohol.
> 
> Thanks to xxx-cat-xxx for her very helpful beta read! ♥

Bruce Banner was a terrible liar, which was something Natasha had always liked about him. Even the first time she'd met him, back in Kolkata, when he'd briefly pretended that he might Hulk out—she'd been so afraid of the Hulk that she'd bought it. After spending more time with him, she realized how out of character it was for both of them—that he would joke about it, and that she would have missed all of his shaky tells.

In retrospect, what _was_ in character about that encounter was the fact that he caved immediately after his fake-out and apologized for being "mean." _Mean_. To Natasha Romanoff! She couldn't remember the last time anyone had worried about being mean to her. She'd liked him, then, the genius who could have crushed the life out of her but instead had worried about her. As she got to know him, she came to understand that the thing Bruce wanted to avoid most of all was hurting people.

Natasha hadn't ever thought of _not_ hurting people as an option for her. The best she could hope for would be to hurt the right people, to stop them from hurting innocents. She'd thought that she and Hulk were two of a kind, weapons that couldn't be stopped, only pointed in the right direction. And when Bruce had tried to stop being a weapon, she hadn't let him. She'd taken that kind, gentle man and pushed him off a cliff and into the fray. She'd aimed and fired him, just like her Red Room handlers used to do her.

The worst part wasn't the hurt look in his eyes as he fell. It wasn't even the fact that he'd disappeared off the face of the Earth—literally—for two years afterwards. The worst part was that, even when she was filled with relief to see Bruce back in the Avengers Compound, she knew she'd make the same decision again. They'd _needed_ the Hulk in Sokovia. The lives of so many civilians outweighed Bruce's pacifism. They had to.

Still, when she managed to find a quiet moment with Bruce en route to Wakanda, she said, "Hey. It's really good to see you again," which was true.

He cast a shy sidelong glance at her and choked out, "You too."

She bit her lip and said, "I just want to say that I am sorry, for...for how things ended." Unlike Bruce, Natasha was a very good liar. But it wasn't even really a lie. She _was_ sorry; she was just also right.

But Bruce surprised her by giving a little headshake. "No, you...you were right. I was being selfish in Sokovia, I…" He shrugged and crossed his arms around his chest.

Nat waited for him to continue, but eventually accepted his silence with a nod. "Well. Welcome back. Where have you been hiding? I...we tried to reach you."

"Oh. Um. I guess I was on a planet called Sakaar?"

Nat let her eyebrows rise up, and she analyzed Bruce's face closely. He looked tired and scared, but...truthful. Of course he wouldn't lie, of course it wasn't the strangest thing Nat had ever heard, but still, she asked, "You were on another planet?"

He gave a little one-shoulder shrug. "Apparently."

"What do you mean, apparently?"

"Well, just, I—I don't really remember most of it. It's what Thor told me."

"You don't re—" The penny dropped for Nat and she swallowed. "You stayed transformed the whole time?"

Bruce nodded minutely. "Until Thor found me."

"Jesus, Bruce, I'm sorry," Nat said, and she meant it. She knew how much Bruce hated to be Hulk, and she couldn't imagine what two years of that had been like for him. (She still would have done the same thing, if she'd known what would happen, but she would have spent the last two years feeling even worse about it than she already had.)

Bruce shrugged again and stared out the window of the Quinjet. It was one of the most awkward conversations Nat had ever had, and that was really saying something. She reached over and hesitantly rested a hand on his knee, but he flinched and she pulled her hand back. After an interminable moment, he glanced at her again and mumbled, "I'm sorry, I don't mean to be rude, I'm just...pretty overwhelmed."

"That's understandable," Nat replied. She licked her lips and kept her voice steady as she added, "Ah, you're not going to—"

"No," Bruce said. "I'm not—something happened to Hulk."

"Something happened?"

"Thanos happened, I think," Bruce said. "I—well, anyway, I guess for the time being I...it's just me. In New York, there was...well, we could have used Hulk but I just couldn't get him to come out. I _tried_. And even...he'll usually come out even if I don't want him to, if I'm in danger. But I definitely was, and...he didn't."

Nat let out a long breath. She knew better than most how powerful Hulk was; Hulk would have been one of their best chances against Thanos.

Bruce must have known where Nat's ever-tactical mind went, because he added, "I had an idea, though, the, um, the Veronica satellite that Tony and I made? With the Hulkbuster armor in it? Anyway, before we left New York, Rhodey and FRIDAY helped me with it, so, uh, I'll have that. For...if we need it."

"Smart," Nat said approvingly. 

Bruce nodded and returned his gaze to the window.

Nat let the conversation end there. She focused on her tablet, finding as much data as she could about what was happening. She couldn't waste any more time right now worrying about her ex...whatever Bruce was. 

When they'd arrived in Wakanda, Bruce and Nat had gone their separate ways, following their own missions. She'd eventually seen him on the battlefield, wearing the huge, clunky suit of armor. It would have been funny if it hadn't been so sad.

And then after their grueling loss and subsequent retreat back to the Avengers Compound, she hadn't seen much of Bruce, even though they were all living in the same building. Bruce spent so much time holed up in the lab, trying to analyze Fury's pager—and Nat still had trouble conceiving of a world without Nick Fury in it—and whatever other abstract scientific solutions he was working on. Meanwhile, Nat focused on the practicalities, tracking the worldwide chaos and doing what she could to put things back to rights.

And then Carol Danvers had answered her call, and they had a spark of hope, even after Tony's first act back on Earth was to quit the Avengers. 

After their final failure, the remnants of the Avengers had scattered. Bruce had gone to stay with Tony and Pepper, leaving the Hulkbuster behind at the Compound as he tried out retirement. Steve had gone to DC, where he seemed to be trying to fill the hole Sam Wilson had left behind. Col. Rhodes still answered to the US military, and he joined their efforts to stabilize "areas of unrest." Carol and Rocket had gone back to space. Clint went...away, and that one might have hurt the most.

But Nat stayed at the Avengers Compound. It was as close as she had to a home, and she figured _somebody_ needed to keep the lights on there. Distress calls still came in. She did her best to help, and her best was very good. She found a sense of purpose, and she found a stray cat who mysteriously evaded all of the Compound's security measures, and what more did she need?

After a few months of solitude at the Compound, she picked up a phone call from Pepper. This wasn't unexpected; Tony might have retired, but Pepper hadn't, and she'd kept in touch with Nat about ways the Stark Foundation could support global recovery efforts. But almost immediately, Nat could tell that this wasn't a business call.

"Hey, Nat, how are you holding up?"

"As good as can be expected. You?"

"Well. Very good, actually. I, uh, have some news."

From Pepper's gentle tone, Nat immediately guessed, but she said, "Oh?"

"I, uh, Tony and I are...expecting. And I know...I know there's...well, obviously the timing isn't ideal, but…"

"Congratulations," Nat said, and she knew it sounded sincere. She supposed it was; she did want Pepper and Tony to be happy, and if this was what they wanted, well, she was sure they could make it work.

"Thank you," Pepper said warmly. "So, uh, the other thing is, well, have you heard from Bruce lately?"

"No. I thought he was with you?"

"Yes. He is. But he, ah, I think he's planning to come back to the Compound, and I...I thought you should get a heads up. He might call, but...well, you know Bruce isn't the best communicator."

Nat sighed. "There's plenty of space for him."

"I think it'll be good for you to have some company," Pepper ventured.

"Bruce hates me."

"No! He doesn't, I'm sure he doesn't."

Nat snorted, and Pepper said, "I mean it, Nat. I know you two...I know you have some history. But Bruce doesn't hate anybody, except maybe himself."

"Hmm," Nat said noncommittally. 

"Well, just, I hope you two can look after each other."

"I don't need looking after, and I don't know that I'm qualified to look after anyone else." Least of all Bruce, who'd made it very clear that he didn't want to have anything to do with her.

Pepper sounded endlessly, irritatingly sympathetic as she said, "Everybody needs looking after, once in a while."

"If you say so."

"You should come visit sometime, Nat," Pepper said. "You're only a few hours away. I won't let Tony cook for you…"

"Yeah, maybe," Nat said, knowing she wouldn't.

Pepper must have known, too, because she sighed audibly. But before she could say anything else, Nat's phone lit up, and she said, "Hey, Pepper, congratulations, but I have another call coming in." She hung up before Pepper could reply, and took down details about a potential space alien sighting in New Jersey. By the time she'd investigated (and concluded it was a hoax, not worth calling Carol or Rocket), she'd managed to put Pepper's call out of her mind.

Until that evening, when she spotted motion on one of the security cameras and saw a black SUV with the license plate STARK6 pull into the garage. She watched as Bruce climbed out of the SUV, a backpack slung over his shoulder. She watched his progress, including when he paused to pet the stray cat who Natasha absolutely had not adopted. He laughed as the cat wound around his legs, and then he took a deep, steadying breath as he made his way inside the Compound. She watched as he made his way to the spacious office where Nat spent most of her waking hours.

"Hey, Nat," he said softly. He stood in the doorway, not quite entering the space.

She looked up from her screen. "Hey, yourself."

"I, uh. I hope you don't mind if I stay here for a while? I...have some work I need to do."

"It's not really up to me. Last time I checked, Tony still had the deed to this place," Nat said, more curt than she'd intended. 

Bruce twisted his hands together. "Right. Well. I guess my old room is still free, but uh, I'll probably be in the lab mostly. If you need me. Or anything."

She nodded. "I'm here, mostly. If you need me."

Bruce shifted uncomfortably on his feet for a moment, and then he nodded back and disappeared into the Compound. She buried her head in her hands and took a few deep breaths before returning to work. She could have been a little friendlier, sure, but then—Bruce could have called. Nat was busy keeping the world from falling apart. She didn't have time to manage Bruce's moods. Still, she resolved to try a bit more tact the next time she saw him.

But then...she didn't see him. For weeks, she kept up her normal routine—coffee, emails, target practice, make a sandwich, work out, give the cat a quick scratch behind the ears, hold her remote meetings, repeat until she collapsed from exhaustion—and almost forgot that another person was physically staying in the Compound. She supposed that she would hear about it if Bruce needed help, but she wasn't going to violate his privacy. If Bruce wanted to be left alone, she could manage that.

One evening about a month after Bruce's arrival, Rhodes turned up in person with a big bag of Chinese takeout. 

"Ooh, that smells good," Nat said. She reached out for the bag, but Rhodes gripped it tightly.

"I can imagine. When was the last time you ate an actual meal?"

"Peanut butter is actual," Nat said. 

He shook his head. "I came through the kitchen and it was a grim scene. When Tony told me Bruce was coming to stay here, I thought he might at least buy some groceries. But I think he might be doing worse than you are."

"Well, I'm doing fine."

Rhodes raised his eyebrows. "Uh huh."

"I am," Nat insisted.

"How do you think Bruce is doing?"

"I haven't seen much of him. I'm sure he's fine."

"You two should really try to stick together. I worry about you. Both of you."

"We're busy."

"Uh _huh_ ," Rhodes said flatly. "Well, I'm going to go fetch Bruce from his lair. We'll have dinner together."

He stalked off without waiting for an answer and took the takeout with him. She rolled her eyes and returned to her inbox. Half an hour later, Rhodes returned, with Bruce in tow. His greying hair was damp, presumably fresh from the shower, and he looked worse for the wear. He was definitely thinner than the last time she'd seen him, and he hadn't been able to wash away the dark circles under his eyes. Of course, Nat couldn't remember the last time she'd looked in a mirror. She probably didn't look much better.

"Let's go to the dining room," Rhodes said firmly. "Like people do."

Bruce nodded mutely, and Nat swallowed her protest. She took her phone and her tablet, though. Rhodes reheated the takeout and set the table, and the three of them sat and ate family style.

"This is good," Bruce mumbled. "Thanks, Rhodey."

"Anything would be better than that dumb shake diet you've been on," Rhodes replied.

"They're nutritionally-sound meal replacements," Bruce said. "And I have trail mix too."

"Uh huh," Rhodes said. "Well, you're probably getting more vitamins than Nat, I'll give you that."

"Bread has added vitamins and minerals, it says so on the package," Nat replied. "Peanut butter has protein. And jelly is...fruit."

Rhodes snorted. "Look, you know I was college roommates with Tony, right? You can imagine what a disaster he was? And somehow you two are even worse at feeding yourselves than teenage Tony was."

"I'm very busy," Nat protested.

Bruce nodded. "Me, too."

"Really? Because I've just been lounging poolside since I left New York," Rhodes said drily. He shook his head. "We're all busy, but you have to take care of yourselves. You have to eat actual food. Promise me you'll at least take time to eat dinner." He waited a moment for a response and then said, "I'm serious. Promise me."

Bruce swallowed his mouthful of tofu and nodded. "Okay." Rhodes stared at him, and Bruce added, "Uh, I promise?"

Rhodes turned his glare on Nat. She shrugged. "I'll see what I can do."

" _Nat._ C'mon." Rhodes softened. "I have enough to worry about out there. I need to know that you guys are holding up okay. Just dinner. Just...try to eat a vegetable. Promise me."

"Okay, fine, I promise I'll try."

Rhodes rolled his eyes. "I'm going to patch in to the security cameras to check on you."

Bruce caught Nat's eye, a tiny smile on his lips. Nat smiled back and said, "I'm glad to hear that you have enough free time to worry about the two of us."

"I _don't_ , that's why I'm asking you two to worry about yourselves! Or about each other, at least. Take something off my plate, why don't you?" Rhodes replied.

"Okay," Bruce replied, as he reached out and grabbed a spring roll off of Rhodes's plate.

"You know that's not what I meant," he scolded, as Bruce laughed and took a giant bite. 

Nat grinned. It was admittedly nice to hear laughter around the dinner table. After she finished eating, Nat washed her plate and retreated back to her office. She'd planned to get back to work, but then Bruce appeared in her doorway, his body language shy as he said, "Hey, uh, Rhodey and I were going to watch a movie or something...if you're not too busy?"

"I...suppose I can multitask," Nat replied, and was rewarded with a small smile from Bruce. She took her tablet and followed him back to the common room. Bruce settled on the couch next to Rhodes. There was room for her on the couch too, but she sprawled sideways over an easy chair, opting for a bit more personal space. 

Bruce and Rhodes joked with each other throughout the movie, but Nat mostly tuned it out, keeping focused on the constant stream of data coming her way. There were so many people who needed help. Halfway through the movie she gave up and went back to her office. Neither Bruce nor Rhodes did anything to stop her; she wasn't even sure if they'd noticed her leaving. (In fairness: she had been very quiet about it, even for her.)

The next morning, she got up early, as usual, and made a pot of coffee. Rhodes joined her in the kitchen, fully dressed with his duffel bag in hand. "You heading out?" she asked.

"Yeah. I'm needed in Texas, apparently." He poured himself a cup of coffee and drank half of it in one swallow.

"You'll—you'll let me know if you hear anything about Barton?"

"Nat, of course." Rhodes took another long sip of coffee. "But, listen...I know you and Bruce had your...whatever, but you two should really try to move past that and look out for each other here."

Nat gave an ambivalent nod. Rhodes said, "You know, it's just good to have somebody to watch your six. I—I know things are...bad all over. But that's when you need a wingman most. Sometimes you'll keep going for them even if you might feel like giving up."

Nat's jaw tightened. She didn't have the luxury of giving up. Too many people needed her to keep going. "Clint's my wingman," she said.

Rhodes gave her a sympathetic smile. "Yeah. I know. Well, look, you know, Tony was mine, but...things change. And Bruce is a good guy. You could do worse."

"I—I know. I'm not the one you have to convince. He's been hiding from me since he got here."

"Hmm." 

"I apologized to him," Nat said, defensively. "For...before."

Rhodes nodded. "Yeah. Well...look, I'll be back when I can. And I'll keep in touch. But...try, okay? I'll feel better about leaving if I know you two are taking care of each other."

"Fine, I'll try," Nat said. Rhodes surprised her with a hug. Then he put his mug in the dishwasher and was gone.

The rest of the day passed by like normal—like Nat's new normal, anyway. Staring at screens until her vision blurred, bearing witness to so much pain in the world, and doing what she could to mitigate it all. 

But then that evening, Bruce appeared in her office doorway. "Hey, Nat," he said shyly. 

She raised her eyebrows. "Did Rhodes give you a lecture about being nice to me?" Bruce's face crumpled, and Nat instantly felt like an asshole. "Sorry," she said. "I...I didn't mean it like that."

Bruce shrugged. "Well...he did, but I...I didn't mean to be...I've just been really caught up in my work. And I wasn't sure if you...wanted to be interrupted. From your work. I...I was going to make dinner, though, if...if you want to eat with me. Or I can save you a plate?"

She smiled. "That sounds nice. What are you cooking?"

"I was thinking curry? Er, do you like spicy food?"

"I love spicy food."

"Okay! Uh, so, I'll just...be in the kitchen," Bruce said. 

Nat wasn't often surprised by people, but Bruce had always been an exception. Even the first time she'd met him, before he'd scared her. She'd read everything SHIELD had about him and decided that a child with a sob story would be the best way to lure him out of the city. But still, she'd been surprised at how well it had worked, at the concern he'd shown for the little girl. Bruce hadn't just been playing doctor as a cover story, he'd been really dedicated to helping people who couldn’t afford any high-quality medical care. 

He'd kept surprising her after the Chitauri attack, after the Avengers became a team. She'd resolved to spend more time with him because she was still afraid of the Hulk, and she hated to be afraid of anything. She'd thought that with enough exposure, she could conquer that fear, and she was right, of course. But she hadn't counted on what more exposure to _Bruce_ would do to her. 

Bruce offered still more surprises when she'd gotten over her fear of him and begun to flirt with him in earnest. Nat was highly skilled at flirting, and she knew she was beautiful. Her looks were one of her most useful assets. And in her experience, most men—most people—took attention from a beautiful woman as their due. But Bruce had shied away from it.

It had been hard to convince him of her interest. And some of that may have been due to her reputation, which was fair enough; but more of it seemed to be due to Bruce's disbelief that anyone would have a romantic interest in him at all. She'd found his shyness endearing.

Nat had moved past that interest now, but she still felt a residual tenderness toward him. And as much as she hated to admit it, Rhodes was right—she was lonely by herself. She knew there were bigger problems in the world than her personal loneliness, but she felt it all the same.

She spent another twenty minutes combing through security footage, and then she decided to take a break. Based on Bruce's hesitant manner, she wasn't sure if he'd planned to actually let her know when he was finished cooking, or if he'd just leave leftovers for her. She would reach back out to him and join him in the kitchen. If nothing else, she'd be able to tell Rhodes that she'd tried.

Bruce looked up from the pot he was stirring and gave her a surprised smile. "Hey, Nat. It'll be a little while longer before it's ready."

"That's okay. You want some company while you cook?"

"Sure. If—if you have the time."

She nodded and held up her tablet. "If anything's really pressing, I'm sure we'll hear about it."

"Right." He sighed. "Isn't it funny to remember how hard we _used_ to think our lives were?"

"Funny might not be the word I'd choose."

"Well. Not funny-ha-ha," Bruce allowed, and then he laughed anyway, and she laughed too.

Nat settled into a wooden stool at the kitchen counter. Silently agreeing that the dining room seemed like overkill for just the two of them, Bruce brought two plates of curry over to the counter and sat on another stool. Nat took a bite and was once again surprised—by how good it was, and by how spicy it was. As she ate, she realized she'd been hungrier than she knew. She took a pause from shoveling food in her mouth to say, "This is good. When did you learn how to cook like this?" She'd never known this about him; but then, they'd never had the chance to spend much domestic downtime together.

He shrugged. "I learned some basics from my mom when I was a kid." He took another bite and added, "But mostly, when I was on the run, I'd try to keep a low profile but there would always be these amazing women who could somehow detect a hungry person in their midst. I couldn't turn down their meal invitations so I tried to help instead. Picked up some stuff along the way." 

After another bite, he remembered his social niceties and added, "What about you?"

"I learned the basics in the Red Room. Culinary skills can come in handy. Of course, I really excelled at knife handling."

Bruce let out a little laugh, though it wasn't exactly a joke. He finished eating quickly and rose to take his dish to the sink.

"Hey," Nat called, "you cooked, so I'll do the dishes. That's the rule, right?"

"There's a dishwasher."

"Well, I'll load it. Tomorrow I'll make dinner and you can do the dishes, okay?"

"Okay," Bruce agreed. "Good night, Nat," he added, over his shoulder as he left the kitchen. It was still early, and she assumed he was going back to his lab rather than to bed. Still, it was enough social interaction for the day. She cleaned up the kitchen and returned to her post before eventually dragging herself to bed for a fitful sleep.

The next afternoon she turned her mind toward what to make for dinner. Even when she wasn't eating peanut butter, she tended toward simple fare; quick to cook and easy to eat. But after Bruce's dinner, she was in the mood to show off a little with something a bit more involved. Many of her go-to dishes relied on meat, which Bruce didn't eat. She wasn't even sure if there was any meat in the house, even after Rhodes's visit. A cursory examination revealed some frozen chicken breasts that didn't look appealing even to an inveterate omnivore like herself.

She reached back into her memory and pulled out a recipe for bliny, a Russian comfort food that didn't seem likely to provide her much comfort at this time. But at least she could make it with pantry ingredients, including a vegetable filling. She'd been resentful of the time it would take to cook, but it ended up being somewhat soothing. She particularly liked the focus it took to make sure the crepes turned out perfectly. For a few moments she couldn't think about anything else in the world—in the universe—only the thin batter in the pan.

Still, she wasn't _so_ focused on her cooking that she could be snuck up on, not even by someone as quiet as Bruce. Not that she thought he'd been _trying_ to sneak up on her, but she whipped her head around immediately upon hearing him enter the kitchen.

He raised his hands, palm-out in an admission of surrender, and said, "It smells good in here. Can I help with anything?"

She shook her head. "Not until it's time to do the dishes."

He smiled and perched on a stool.

A thought occurred to Nat as she plated the bliny, and she asked, "So what are you working on, exactly?"

"Oh! Ah, well, just trying to figure out what's going on with Hulk."

"What do you mean?"

"Well...he hasn't come out at all, not since the first time he encountered Thanos, and I just...think I should try to get him back."

"But you have the armor."

"I mean, yeah, but...well, in a fight, I...I'd rather have Hulk. I think we all would."

His tone didn't sound pointed, but Nat bit back a wince at the memory of their last fight with Ultron. "I thought you'd be happy to be rid of him. I thought that's what you wanted."

Bruce looked down at his plate. "Things change."

"I suppose they do." Nat was curious about what exactly Bruce was doing to try to get Hulk back, but she decided not to press him. She knew how to interrogate people, and she suspected that her best bet with Bruce would be to let him get more comfortable with her and choose when he wanted to reveal more information. 

He added, "Don't worry, I'm not doing anything that would expose you to danger." 

She raised her eyebrows. "You mean more than the usual amount of danger?"

"I mean from radiation," he said sheepishly.

"Oh." This information did nothing to quell Nat's curiosity about Bruce's research. She wasn't sure how to ask him if _he'd_ be safe without insulting him, so she just nodded and took another bite of bliny.

When they'd finished eating, Bruce quietly did the dishes. Nat lingered in the kitchen and said, "Hey, if you're at a stopping point for the day, we could watch another movie?"

"Sure. You can pick this time, since I guess Star Wars wasn't your cup of tea? You more of a Trekkie?"

She took a fraction of a second to recall that that had been the movie Bruce and Rhodes had been watching when she'd bailed early. "Oh, no, just—I'd already seen it."

"Sure, who hasn't? That's never stopped me from watching it again."

"Nerd," Natasha said, careful to smile so it didn't sound like an insult.

Bruce smiled back. "Wow, you finally noticed." He washed his hands and followed her to the common room, where she felt suddenly frozen with indecision. They had access to virtually every streaming service, but it occurred to her that the act of choosing a movie would reveal something about herself.

"Are you in the mood to watch anything in particular?" she asked, hoping to avoid the burden of choice.

"Nah, anything's fine." Then, after a pause, Bruce added, "Maybe a comedy? Something to take our minds off of…" he trailed off with a hand gesture, indicating the world at large or maybe just their odd situation. There were plenty of things that could be taken off their minds.

"Right." She picked a teen comedy from the 80s; she'd seen it before as part of her Red Room training to understand American popular culture. She hadn't thought it was funny at the time, but she'd assumed that it had been because she had lacked the context for it.

After about fifteen awkward minutes, Bruce said, "Wow, this has aged very poorly, hasn't it?"

"Yeah." Wordlessly, she tossed him the remote.

Bruce stared at the remote for a minute and then navigated to a list of the past year's highest grossing movies. "Any of these sound good? Tony was trying to get me to catch up on all the stuff I missed but I didn't make a ton of progress."

Nat peered at the list—she'd missed most of them too, though she'd been here on Earth—and picked a prestigious historical drama. It seemed the least likely to dredge up unpleasant memories. As she hit play, she asked, "How are Tony and Pepper doing?"

Bruce shrugged.

"You haven't heard from them?"

"Not really. Bits and pieces. I...I've been trying to just let them live their lives, you know? It sounds like Pepper is staying healthy, but Tony made it pretty clear that he's done with Avengers stuff, so…" Bruce trailed off, then asked, "You don't hear anything from Clint, do you?"

She shook her head once, sharply. Bruce made a sympathetic sound and, blessedly, pressed her no further. 

After a few minutes of ladies in gowns batting their eyelashes, Nat said, half-jokingly, "I don't know about you, but I need a drink."

"Yeah," Bruce said.

Things must be bad if Bruce was accepting a drink. She paused the movie and came back with a bottle of vodka and two glasses.

Bruce raised his eyebrows, but he took the glass.

"Za tvajo zdarovje," she said, toasting his health.

He nodded and replied, "Za nashu druzjbu."

Nat remembered teaching him Russian phrases. She supposed she shouldn't be surprised that he remembered learning them—he _was_ a genius after all—but hearing him toast their friendship still made her feel something. Regret, maybe? Well, this was no time for _that_.

She knocked back her shot with ease, while Bruce took a small sip and tried to hide the face he made. Right. Times might not be bad enough for a usual teetotaler to jump straight to shots. "Oh, do you want a mixer? I think Rhodes got some juice."

Bruce slipped to the kitchen to adulterate his drink. "I never was much of a drinker, but I suppose it can't hurt now."

"If it does, I'll teach you my secret Russian hangover cure," Nat promised solemnly.

Bruce snorted, but as the movie dragged on he abandoned the mixer and moved from tipsy into drunk. It turned out that Bruce was a very emotional drunk, in amusing contrast to his reserved sober self. His eyes were bright and his cheeks were flushed, and he got really _involved_ with the movie, gasping with surprise at each minor twist and bursting into tears when the heroine was slighted at the ball. It was sort of adorable, not that she'd say so aloud.

She looked over to him for a reaction to the film's tragic ending and found him asleep on the couch. It was probably for the best. Feeling protective, she stood up to cover him with a blanket, only to discover the cat curled up between his feet.

"You little traitor, how did you get in here?" she whispered.

Liho pretended not to hear—not that she ever revealed her methods for getting past the Compound's security measures. Nat shook her head at the cat. She turned the lights off and went off to her bedroom. She knew she was tired, but she couldn't sleep. She crept back to the common room, where she curled up in the easy chair and scrolled through her tablet until she eventually fell asleep sitting up. 

When she awoke a few hours later, Bruce was still asleep on the couch. She probably should have taken the vodka away from him at some point, but he was a grown man. Still, she went to the kitchen and made some strong coffee. She rummaged through the fridge and found a jar of pickles, and she left them on the coffee table alongside a Thermos of coffee for when Bruce woke up. Then she took her own mug of coffee back to her office, getting her day off to an early start.

Hours later, Bruce turned up in her doorway, looking rumpled and holding the jar of pickles. 

"Good morning, sunshine," Nat said with a bright smile. "How you feeling?"

He sighed and shook his head. "The Other Guy used to keep me from getting sick but I guess he's on strike."

"Well, did you eat your pickles?"

"What?"

"My secret Russian hangover cure. Trust me, we know what we're doing."

Bruce made a face, but he nodded. "Okay...well, thanks, Nat."

"Seriously, eat a pickle. Eat a pickle right now."

He eyed her skeptically but he opened the jar and obeyed. 

"Feel better?" she asked. He shook his head and she said, "Well, give it time. And eat more pickles. You shouldn't take aspirin on an empty stomach."

"Thanks," he mumbled, and wandered off, jar of pickles in tow. She sighed and shook her head. She wasn't Bruce's mother. He could take care of himself.

Still, a few hours later, she went out to the common room and found him on the couch. He had his tablet out but mostly seemed to be staring at the ceiling. Liho was again at his feet. Nat stalked off to the kitchen and grumpily made a mess of scrambled eggs and fried potatoes. She plated it, doused it in hot sauce, and brought it out to Bruce.

"If the pickles didn't fix your hangover, this should do the trick."

Bruce blinked up at her. 

She added, "This is Clint's go-to hangover cure. Well, this or cold pizza."

Bruce sat up with a groan and took a bite. "God, Nat, you're a lifesaver."

"Well, don't get used to it," she said lightly. "But I guess I do feel a little responsible."

Bruce took a few more bites and said, "Yeah, Rhodey gives a good guilt trip."

"No, not that, because it was my vodka."

Bruce laughed. "Still, I'm the one who drank it. I don't...I don't know what I was thinking, it wasn't like me, but, you know…"

"Everything is horrible?"

He nodded. "Everything is horrible," he repeated in agreement. Then he gestured with his fork toward the potatoes and eggs. "Not this, though. This is...amazing. You're amazing, Natasha."

She snorted. "You're welcome."

He glanced up at her. "You're feeling okay?"

"Peachy. I can hold my liquor, unlike you weak Americans."

His lips twitched. "Guess you're not wrong about that. Hey, can I ask you something?"

"You just did."

Bruce sighed and said, "What's up with that cat?"

"She's a stray who's been coming around. I took her to a vet in town, she's not chipped."

"Does she have a name?"

"I've been calling her Liho."

"Liho?"

"It means 'Bad Luck.'"

"Aww, that's mean," Bruce said.

"Don't worry, she doesn't speak Russian."

Bruce recovered from his hangover, and he and Nat fell into an easy routine. Every day, they made each other dinner and watched a movie or TV show together afterwards. Nat caved and purchased the supplies necessary to stop pretending like Liho was an outdoor cat. Despite the horrors, things were almost...domestic at the compound. 

Nat thought it would have been easy for them to fall into bed together, but she decided not to pursue that. Things could get so messy that way. She was content with the fragile, friendly intimacy they'd managed to build up and she didn't want to risk it over sex. It seemed that Bruce felt the same—not that she'd expect him to make the first move anyway.

At the end of the month, the remnants of the Avengers reassembled at the Compound. Bruce made tacos for everyone but mostly laid low, presumably hard at work in his lab while the rest of them compared notes on how things were looking around the world and around the universe.

Still, Rhodes said quietly, "You look like you're doing better around here," and she had to agree that he was right. Even on days when she neglected breakfast and lunch, she never missed dinner.

Nat and Bruce passed another seven months together in a peaceful partnership. She stayed in regular contact with her team. Steve dropped in a few times, too, though he'd stepped back from active duty. She still missed the way life had been, before the Snap, before the Sokovia Accords...but things now were better than they had been when she'd been alone in the Compound.

One day, Pepper called to announce the birth of Morgan Happy Potts-Stark, and Nat congratulated them and immediately declined the invitation to come meet her.

That night, Bruce served a more elaborate dinner than usual. She assumed it was a prelude to him telling her he was leaving to visit Tony and Pepper, and she was preemptively annoyed that he would think he needed to butter her up with a fancy meal, and preemptively hurt that he was leaving, and preemptively irritated with herself for having any of those feelings. She buttered her warm, fresh-baked bread with much more force than was necessary.

Bruce raised his eyebrows and said nothing.

Finally, she said, "So when are you leaving?"

"What?"

"I assume you heard from Tony."

Bruce nodded, but he still looked genuinely confused. "Yeah, I'm happy for them."

"When are you going to go visit them? To see the baby?"

"Oh, no, I can't do that."

"What?"

"I have to finish my work here, and I...it's not safe for me to be around a baby." He dragged a fork through his homemade pesto and frowned.

"What? Because of the Hulk?"

He shrugged.

"I thought the reason you were here was because Hulk wasn't coming out. Shouldn't it be safer than ever for you to be around a baby?" 

They'd had these kinds of conversations before, what felt like several lifetimes ago, back when Ultron had been the biggest threat facing the world. Nat had grieved the loss of her ability to give birth, but since leaving the Red Room she'd learned that she could still have a family. The Barton children had shared no blood with Nat, but they'd still been hers. 

Bruce's concerns had been different, but she thought they'd be allayed now. He wouldn't Hulk out by accident, and he wasn't on the run anymore. (Particularly not since Thaddeus Ross had been lost to the Snap.) She'd thought Bruce would have been delighted to meet Pepper and Tony's child, who would certainly be Bruce's niece the way Lila, Cooper, and Nathaniel had been Nat's family.

"Well, I just...I mean, and my research…" he shook his head and took another bite of his homemade ravioli, despite having not answered her question in any way.

"I'm sure they'll send us pictures," Nat said. She felt concerned that Bruce was missing out on this experience, but she also felt a guilty flash of relief that Bruce would be staying after all.

She did the dishes that night with a small smile on her face. Bruce and Nat settled back into their new routine. But the occasional baby photos they received only seemed to heighten the urgency they both felt—a reminder of what they were fighting for—and they were both working harder than ever.

One evening after another team meeting had come and gone, she came to, lying on the kitchen floor with the smell of smoke in the air. Bruce was bent over her with a look of concern on his face. "Hey, Nat, are you okay?"

"Mm? Yeah, of course," she said. She tried to sit up but her head swam. She took a deep breath, gritted her teeth, and prepared to sit up again.

"Hey, easy," Bruce said. He slipped a dish towel under her head and gently placed a hand on her head, keeping her still and checking her temperature. "You're burning up."

He brought her water and aspirin, and helped her slowly ease into a seated position so she could drink. 

"Any other symptoms? Nausea, vomiting, difficulty breathing?"

"I guess I didn't have much of an appetite. I...now that I think about it, I...haven't eaten anything today." She shivered. Her body ached, but she didn't want to complain.

Bruce pursed his lips. "Why didn't you say something? And why were you trying to cook stir-fry if you felt so bad?"

"It's my night to cook."

He snorted. "Okay, well now it's your night off. Let's get you to bed." He carefully helped her to her feet and put an arm around her as he guided her to her bedroom.

"Great bedside manner," she managed to joke. 

He knelt to remove her shoes and said, "It's probably low blood sugar mixed with maybe a virus? The team must be bringing all sorts of interesting germs back with them when they visit. For now my prescription is rest and rehydration." Bruce brought her Gatorade and a banana. 

After she'd finished those, she said, "I need my tablet."

He brought her a simple communicator, while showing her that he had her tablet. "I'll keep an eye on the incoming messages, okay? You just give me a call with that if you need anything."

And then he left before she could protest. With nothing else to do, she slept. When she awoke, Bruce was sitting in a chair in the corner of her room. He was typing away on his laptop, but when she stirred, he looked over at her. 

"Morning, Nat, how are you feeling?"

"Better," she tried to say, but her voice was hoarse. She sat up and saw that Liho was curled up at the end of her bed. Liho didn't typically sleep with Nat; she usually seemed to go on nocturnal adventures or slept out on a couch in the common room. Nat decided she didn't mind sharing a bed with the cat, who after all didn't take up much space.

"Hmm." Bruce took her temperature—still high—and brought her pills, water, and applesauce.

"I'm fine," she mumbled, out of habit. She hated to show weakness.

"Of course." Bruce's tone was kind.

"Where's my tablet?"

"Everything's okay."

"I didn't ask if things were okay. I asked where my tablet was."

He sighed. "I'll bring it, if you promise to rest when you get tired."

He picked it up from the corner where he'd been sitting and brought it to her. She performed triage on her messages, though she could see that Bruce had done as he'd said and responded to things on her behalf yesterday. She had to admit that his responses had been adequate, but she couldn't help but feel panicked at the idea of being out of commission. Still, she found it hard to protest when Bruce gently pried her tablet out of her hands after a few hours and firmly suggested that she take a nap.

She ended up spending three days on bed rest under Bruce's watchful eye. She'd known he was a good doctor; he'd patched her up after plenty of Avengers missions. But this was the first time he'd been there for her in an illness rather than an injury, and he seemed to understand that she wanted as little fussing as possible.

If she'd needed to—if she'd been alone—she could have been back on her feet the first morning. But it had been sort of nice to take a break, to accept Bruce's minimal fuss. Not that she planned to express that sentiment to Rhodes or Pepper; they didn't need to know they'd been right.

Once she recovered, she thanked Bruce by making enchiladas for dinner and sitting through a couple of episodes of classic Star Trek with him. They joked about Chekov's accent and went their separate ways at the end of the night, like usual. 

Over the next few months, they made it through the series, watching an episode or two each night. Nat had to admit that it was pretty fun, in a cheesy way. But a few weeks after they reached the finale, Bruce carefully prepared a Russian feast for dinner.

Nat looked at her bowl of borscht suspiciously. "What's this?"

"It's borscht." His face fell. "Does it look that bad? I thought it turned out okay."

"No, I know, it looks good. I mean, why did you make it? You've never made Russian food."

Bruce winced. "I...well, I think this will probably be my last dinner with you for awhile."

Nat carefully kept her face neutral. "Ah. Where are you going?"

He shook his head. "I'll be here, but I'll need to stay quarantined in my lab. I...uh, I'm at a turning point in my research, and...and I don't want to expose you to the stuff I'll be working with now."

"Oh." She took a sip of soup, which was decent, for having been made by an American. She tried to sound casual as she asked, "How long do you think it will take?"

He shrugged. "This is pretty uncharted territory. A...month or two, maybe? But I've stocked up on supplies down in the lab to last a year if needed." She remembered the meal replacement shakes he'd been living off of before and grimaced. Bruce continued, "I—of course, if there's a real emergency, you should give me a call, I'll be physically here, but it's not worth risking contact for just...social reasons, you know?"

"Right."

Bruce tried to wash the dishes afterward, but Nat refused. It felt like charity that she didn't need. It was her turn to wash the dishes, and she would. 

But she did accept his offer to let her pick the movie. Indulging her love of campy spy movies, the kind she used to watch with Clint, she picked _From Russia With Love_. It was the kind of movie that usually she and Bruce would have joked throughout, but instead, they sat quietly. It was horrible.

After the credits rolled, Bruce stood up from the couch and said, "Good night, Natasha. I'll see you...I'll see you when I'm finished."

She nodded. "Good luck, Bruce. Keep me posted, will you? Just so I know you're not dead down there."

"Right. Um, I'll email you updates." He ran a hand through his unruly curls and said, again, "Good night." He left the room, and Nat went back to her office space. She might as well check her messages one more time before bed.

After Bruce began his research exile, Nat quickly returned to her old routine of peanut butter at her desk. It didn't seem worth the fuss of cooking for one, and she was much more efficient without any distractions. Bruce faithfully sent her emails titled "Still Alive," which was something of a relief, but didn't do much to stave off her loneliness. Her teammates continued to occasionally drop by the Compound, virtually and, more rarely, in the flesh. But day to day, it was just Natasha, Liho, and a constantly full inbox.

One month passed, and then two, and Bruce still hadn't indicated that he was anywhere near finished with his project. She didn't press him, but she wondered if something had gone wrong.

Just over two months into Bruce's retreat, Nat smiled at the sight of Steve on the security camera. It would be nice to see him. As odd as it was to say, she missed their days on the run together. He made his way through the Compound to her office. He looked a little older, a little more careworn, but he gave her a smile that made him look almost like Captain America.

"Hey, Nat."

"Steve. How's DC?"

Steve shrugged. "Fine. I...I'm doing what I can. It's just...a lot. I kind of wanted a change of scenery. How are you doing?"

"The same, I guess."

Steve sat down and helped her go through her inbox. It was nice to have him back by her side, even for a little while. Eventually, his stomach growled, and he asked, "Hey, is it your night to cook or Bruce's?"

"Actually, Bruce is locked down in his lab, so every night is my night to cook now."

"Oh? What's he up to?"

"Not sure exactly. He just said he was worried about the radiation and he didn't want to expose me to it."

"Hmm. Well, I'll cook, then."

"Yeah?" Nat asked, unable to keep the skepticism out of her voice.

"Yeah! I've been watching some Food Network…"

"Hm. I look forward to seeing your progress. Let me just wrap this up and I'll meet you in the kitchen."

Steve started to say something, stopped himself, and then said, "Sounds good."

She turned back to her inbox and kept her eyes focused there until she smelled smoke. She ran to the kitchen, where she found a sheepish Steve holding a fire extinguisher. She laughed and turned on the oven's hood fan.

"It was going so well…." Steve said plaintively. "I think this stove is hotter than my stove at home."

"Sure, Steve."

"Let's go into town. You need groceries anyway." She hesitated, and Steve added, "We'll be quick. We can get it to go. Just bring your phone with you."

"Okay," she agreed. She was hungry, and running low on peanut butter, and the kitchen needed to air out. They bought groceries and brought a pizza back, which they ate in the common room while watching an old movie. It was a nice night, but Steve left in the morning. The kitchen aired out, but continued to be largely abandoned. And Nat still hadn't heard any word that Bruce might be finishing his project soon.

Finally, nearly six long months after Bruce had first exiled himself, Nat smelled curry. 

She smiled and made her way from her office to the kitchen, and then froze in the doorway at the sight of _Hulk_ standing barefoot at the stove, wearing sweatpants and no shirt. She took in a sharp breath, and then Hulk turned around and grinned at her. It was Bruce's grin, somehow. She blinked and steadied her breath.

"Hey…" she trailed off. She'd almost called him "Bruce," but then remembered how much Hulk hated to be called Bruce. But this...he didn't seem like Hulk.

"Nat! Hi, I missed you! Dinner's almost ready. It took me awhile to get used to these little utensils but I think I'm getting the hang of it." 

"So, um, you're...you?" She'd never known Hulk to speak in full sentences like that, or express any sentiment unrelated to smashing.

"Yeah, isn't it great? I finally got both of us back together. No more going back and forth! No more mindless fighting!"

"Right...well, yeah, congratulations!"

"I know it's weird but it's the best solution," Bruce said enthusiastically. "It'll take some adjusting, and I'll definitely need to get a new wardrobe, but I figure this isn't anything you haven't seen before, right?" He gestured at his broad bare chest and laughed.

"Right," Natasha agreed, still trying to process this new version of Bruce. His manner was different now. Less shy, more open. She supposed that he'd been living for years with a big secret that he no longer had to hide. She supposed she was happy for him. She watched as he carefully served their meals on plates that looked comically small in his huge hands. And then she watched as he tried to sit on a wooden kitchen stool, only to have it splinter under his weight.

"Oh. I should have thought about that," Bruce said, laughing it off easily. "Guess I'll stand." He stood at the kitchen counter and cheerfully devoured his meal. "God, I forgot about Hulk's metabolism. I should have made more."

"There's some ice cream in the freezer." Steve had brought it on his last visit but Nat had forgotten about it until now.

"Great! I love ice cream!"

This version of Bruce spoke with more exclamation points than Nat was used to. She found herself missing Bruce's quiet, deadpan humor. Still—she'd missed Bruce, and she was happy to have any version of him here. She felt a weight lifted from her shoulders as she washed the dishes and followed Bruce to the common room, where he carefully arranged a few couch cushions on the floor and sat down with his freezer-burnt pint of ice cream. Liho eyed Bruce cautiously from her perch on the back of the couch, then hopped down to sniff him. She retreated to the comfort of Nat's lap, which Nat didn't mind.

They watched a movie and chatted. There wasn't much to catch up on, really, since they'd been in email contact, but it was nice to just share some daily minutia. That night she slept better than she had in months.

But after just a few days of her newest normal, after they'd finished watching a nature documentary, Green Bruce cleared his throat and said, "So, uh, I'm going to be leaving for awhile."

"Oh. Where are you going?"

"Tony's arranging transport for me. I'm going to meet Morgan. Do you want to come?" he asked as if he already knew the answer, which he probably did.

"I can't."

"You know, Tony has internet at his house. You could check your messages there."

"No, I know, but just...someone has to stay here."

"I don't know if that's true, though."

"The Avengers were...are a symbol, and this Compound is...it's important."

"Okay," Bruce said. He was trying to speak softly with his newly-deepened voice, and the attempted gentleness made Nat mad. She felt her temper flare up and she thought of a dozen things to say about Bruce—about how it was pointless for him to have the Hulk back now that Thanos was already dead, about how his research skills almost certainly could have been spent on something that would benefit the greater good instead of just Bruce himself—but she took a breath and forced herself quiet. 

"What time are you leaving?"

"Tony told me 10AM. So, you know, probably before noon."

She nodded. "Okay. Well...have fun. How long are you staying?"

He shook his head. "I'm not sure."

And then she realized that he didn't intend on coming back to the Compound. He'd needed a secure place to do his research, but now he'd finished his project. 

"Right," she said. 

"I'll miss you."

"Right," she repeated.

He paused, probably waiting for her to say she'd miss him too. She would, but she wasn’t going to say it. After another moment passed, he smiled. He rose from his pile of cushions and held out his arms, offering her a huge hug.

She hesitated before stepping up and accepting the hug. It was warm and comforting, and she wanted to cry into his huge chest. But instead, she stepped away and nodded at him.

"Good night, Bruce. Safe travels."

"Good night, Nat. Keep in touch."

She hadn't been sure if she'd see him again before he left, but the next morning he stood in the doorway of her office with a plate gently cradled in his hands. "Since I won't be here for dinner, I made you some breakfast."

She took the plate of eggs and potatoes from him. "Wow, and I'm not even hungover."

He laughed. "Take care of yourself, okay, Nat?"

"Right. You too."

On the security camera, she watched him go out of the Compound and into a waiting helicopter. She ate her eggs and sighed. Liho rubbed against Nat's legs and gave a chirpy meow.

"Do you like eggs?" she wondered aloud. Nat didn't eat them often enough to know if Liho had a preference, but she picked up a morsel of egg and held it out to the cat on her fingers. Liho licked at her hand but didn't eat the egg. "Hmph." Nat finished the eggs herself and washed the plate.

Liho jumped up on her lap. Nat absently scratched behind Liho's ears. At least she wouldn't be completely alone here. She'd have Liho. She'd gotten by with less.

She turned her attention back to her inbox. She smiled briefly at a photo of Bruce beaming as he held Morgan in his huge arms. Then she read less-cheery messages and dispatched help until her stomach growled, when she grabbed her trusty jar of peanut butter and made herself a sandwich. She was going to have to stock up on peanut butter.

The next day, Steve showed up in her office with a pizza box and a concerned expression. "Hey, Nat."

"It's good to see you," she said.

Steve smiled. "You, too."

"Oh, I was talking to the pizza."

He laughed. "Yeah, I thought maybe you could use dinner. And I didn't think I should cook it."

She narrowed her eyes then. Steve hadn't come up to the Compound in months, not since he'd set the kitchen on fire. For him to show up now, with dinner... "Did Bruce ask you to check on me?"

"Oh, what? Well, um, I might have gotten a...suggestion," Steve said. Like Bruce, he was a terrible liar. He furrowed his eyebrows and added, with sincerity, "But I'd been meaning to come for awhile. It's been too long."

Nat bit back her first, indignant response--to remind him that she wasn't a member of his support group--and instead said, "I guess it has. Let's eat."

Out in the common room, she handed him a paper plate and said, "Since you cooked, I'll do the dishes. Want to watch a movie?"

Steve laughed at her joke and put on an old-fashioned movie musical. Liho circled, hoping for a pepperoni tribute. Steve offered Liho a sliver of meat from his hand. Even though she knew that she couldn't get used to this, that Steve would leave soon enough, Nat decided that maybe, once in awhile, it wasn't the worst thing to be looked after.


End file.
